


You're A Classic

by Bold_Cherry



Series: Practice Ficlets [3]
Category: AU - Fandom, Brallon - Fandom, Brendon Urie/Dallon Weekes - Fandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bold_Cherry/pseuds/Bold_Cherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete insists Dallon go on a blind-date with this guy he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're A Classic

**Author's Note:**

> Basically trying to kickstart myself into actually WRITING something again, so finishing up my other fic won't seem as impossible.

Dallon totally blamed Pete. For everything. That tiny little fucker should have left him the hell alone, and then Dallon wouldn’t be standing in front of his bathroom mirror on an otherwise calm friday night, trying desperately to simultaneously remember how to tie a tie and decide if his hair looked okay. He hadn’t asked to be set up on a blinddate, okay, Pete had just bounded up to him at work one day and said «Dude, I have this friend you gotta meet, you guys are like, totally perfect for each other!»  
Dallon had tried arguing, convincing and even begging, but Pete did not change his mind, and he insisted Dallon went on a date with this guy, in that obnoxious way only Pete-fucking-Wentz can master. His argument was that, apparently, Dallon was «in desperate need of a boyfriend, or at least a lay.». Dallon obviously denied everything, even though he knew it was true. Goddammit.

Honestly, Dallon would have been fine with going out for coffee with this guy some random afternoon. He imagined it would have been awkward, but at least it would have been laidback and relaxed. But obviously, knowing Pete (or maybe this guy had asked for it - Jesus, he hoped not) that was not the case. No, obviously, stupid Wentz had to use his magical social-skills or whatever, and book them a table at a fucking 5-star resturant somewhere in the hippest part of town. Dallon had to pick his jaw up from the floor when Pete told him time and place.

So, here he is, friday night - A night that could have been spend watching a movie, reading a book, go to bed early and okay, Dallon would admit his life sorta sucked. He’d had to dig his black suit out from the back of his closet, polish his shoes and had spend approximately 20 minutes picking out a dark blue tie, that he himself thought matched his eyes pretty well. This was ridiculous. He so did not need Pete to find a date for him, he could do that for himself, thank you very much.

He was thankful that he at least didn’t have to pick the guy - Brendon, he’d been told - up from his house. That would have taken the awkwardness to new levels, no doubt. Dallon was already cringing at the thought of having to sit in a tight-ass resturant with a guy he’d never met before. Pete was ridiculous. This was ridiculous. Why did he even say yes? He was ridiculous.

This resturant was ridiculous. Like seriously ridiculous. You’d think such a praised resturant in this day and age would be modern and stylish, but nope. This was all dark wood panels and furniture, heavy dark red curtains, candles and waitresses looking pissy. He really didn’t feel like walking any further into it than just past the doors. He was just about to freak out about not knowing whether this date of his was here yet or not, when someone burst through the doors behind him and he knew who it was, because only one person in the world can make that much noise just by walking through a fucking doorway.

Dallon turned and was met with exactly what he had expected - Pete, all huge, smug grin and winks. He was dragging someone behind him by the wrist, someone who very obviously did not want to enter the place. Dallon caught an annoyed and slightly panicky, «Pete, I seriously don’t think..» before the guy - Brendon, Dallon reminded himself again - looked up at Dallon and immediatley shut up. And really, Dallon would have too, had he been talking. As it was, he tensed and felt a slight blush creeping up his neck, because wow. 

Brendon was a few inches shorter than Dallon, his hair was black and thick, slightly shorter at the sides and longer on top, stroked back in a sort of poof. His eyes were huge and the color reminded Dallon of the chocolate fountain his friends had had at their wedding, his lips were full and soft-looking, a light dusty pink color. He was skinny, but not lanky or stick-ish, it was obvious that there were some abs and biceps hiding under his dark blue suit.

Dallon swallowed. And swallowed again because shit, no one told him that this guy was hot as hell. 

Pete cackled next to him, tearing Dallon’s thoughts and gaze from the downright beautiful boy standing in front of him. «You guys seriously need to stop drooling or we’re gonna have to pay for a new carpet!» he choked out through hysterical laughter.

Brendon straightened his back and put his hand out towards Dallon, «Nice to meet you, I’m Brendon.» he said and Dallon thought fuck, grabbed his hand and thought shit, because not only did his voice sound the same way honey felt, his hand was also soft and warm, but strong and with calluses on his fingers - Guitar player then.

Brendon looked at him with an amused expression and Dallon remembered, oh yeah, «Uh, Dallon, I, uhm, I’m Dallon.» he stammered out, feeling his cheeks heat up for real now, and hearing Pete laugh even harder next to him. Dallon shot him his best scowl, and Pete put his hands up in surrender, «Okay, okay, I’ll leave you to it.» he wiped a tear from his eye, offered that big, obnoxious grin again, and hurried out the door.

«So..» Brendon said, putting his hands in his pocket and shifting the weight on his feet. «Uh, yeah..» Dallon responded. Brendon cracked a smile, and Dallon felt like he might melt into a puddle on the floor because a) fucking wow and b) his cheeks were now so hot his body temperature had to have raised a few degress.  
«C’mon.» Brendon said, and went into the resturant.

«Okay look, I know this is seriously awkward, but let’s try and make it not awkward by getting to know each other, yeah?» Brendon asked when appetizers arrived. Dallon had more or less lost his ability to talk after walking behind Brendon towards the table (and made a mental note to never ever walk behind Brendon again if he wanted to keep his dignity - he almost felt like calling 911 and just say «Applebottom» when asked what the emergency was) so he settled on nodding. Brendon smiled again, and seriously, he had to stop doing that or bad and/or inappropriate things were going to happen. «I say we take turns asking each other simple questions. Deal?» Dallon nodded again. Brendon looked at him with that amused face again, and said, «Okay, you first.»

«Okay, uhm.. Lastname?»   
«Urie. You?»

«Weekes. Age?»

«Twenty-five, you?»

«Thirty-one, stop stealing my questions.»

«Stop asking easy ones. Any kids or ex-wives?»

«Funny. No. Siblings?»

«Two sisters, three brothers, I’m the baby. Where’d you grow up?»

«Salt Lake City. You?»

«Las Vegas. Birthday?»

«May 4th. Uh, are you mormon?»

Brendon blinked. «What?»

«Just, all those siblings, and you’re from Nevada, I just thought..»

Brendon smiled, again, and said, «I used to be, but that was years ago. Why, are you?»

«Uh, well, I used to be, too, but then I found out that guys were pretty awesome, and then I wasn’t exactly welcome in church anymore.»  
Brendon nodded and looked like he genuinely understood.  
«Yeah, pretty much the same here. But let’s keep going, that’s a depressing subject. Favorite band?»

«I totally cannot answer that. Favorite drink?»   
«Red Bull, but no one will let me have it because I still have a little bit of ADHD left...»

They kept going like that, occasionally steering off and talking about other important subjects such as music and whether or not pepperoni pizza is better than hawaiian pizza. Dallon hardly noticed the plates that seemed to come in and disappear again by themselves, untill a waiter smacked down the receipt in front of him and gave him a pissed off look. Dallon blinked at the number with too many 0’s, before he remembered the card Pete had given him the day before. He had no idea (and didn’t really want to know, either) how Pete had the money for things like this, but decided to just go with it, and pull the thin, golden card out of his wallet, and hand it to the waiter who stomped off to the counter. Brendon looked at him with wide eyes, «You shouldn’t have to pay it all on your own!» he said, sounding slightly scandalized. Dallon smirked, «It’s not mine, it’s Pete’s card.» he remembered a moment too late that letting your date know that your friend is paying for the dinner might not be the best idea, but Brendon started giggling like it was the funniest thing he’d heard all night, and that just made Dallon’s stomach feel all weird and fluttery.

«So uhm, Pete drove me here, because I don’t have a car, and honestly, I don’t feel like being put in cross-examination right now.» Brendon said and looked up at Dallon with apologetic eyes as they left the resturant and emerged to the parking-lot. Dallon smiled, «Where do you live?»

Brendon had a nice apartment, and Dallon totally would have complimented Brendon’s sense of decorating, if it wasn’t for the quite compromising position he was in. They were actually in the process of saying goodbye at the door, when Brendon rolled up on his toes and placed a slightly off-center kiss on Dallon’s lips, and then, some stuff happened, Dallon was sure, but it was getting really hard to focus on anything else than the way Brendon was bouncing up and down on top of him, his arms braced on Dallon’s chest, and the most obscene sounds slipping past his lips. Dallon had now found out that Brendon had really soft lips, shapely hips, that he was totally right about abs hiding under Brendon’s shirt, and that Brendon sounded really, extremely, unfair-ly hot when he whispered, «Please don’t think I’m a total slut, you’re just too good to be true.» in his ear, while popping buttons on Dallon’s shirt. Brendon let out another loud, drawn-out moan, and that was it.

It really had been ages since Dallon last woke up with someone in his arms, and he forgot how much an arm can be sleeping and how much of a kink in your neck you get from it, but he really didn’t mind all that much when he looked down at Brendon’s angelic, peaceful, sleeping face.  
However, his phone did mind, and started making annoying sounds from somewhere on the floor. Dallon rolled his eyes and pulled Brendon closer to him, trying to mentally make the stupid thing shut the hell up. Needless to say, it didn’t work, and at last, Dallon let out a huff and slowly untangled himself to roll over and grab his phone out of the pocket of his pants.

«What?»

«Brendon didn’t call for a lift home last night and you just took ages to answer the phone. So, who’s the sore one?»  
 «Shut the fuck up, Pete.»

«I got my money on Bren. He totally has the ass for that kinda..»

«Bye, Pete.»

Dallon shut off his phone and rolled over again, wrapping his arms around Brendon and nuzzling his face into the soft, black hair. 

«You should thank him though.» Brendon’s sleepy voice noted.

«No way, he’s just gonna set me up with someone again. I totally don’t see that happening.»

«Mmm, and why is that?»

«Well, there’s only one you. I wouldn’t want to go out with someone who wasn’t you.»

Brendon giggled, Dallon smiled and silently did thank Pete. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank Coca Cola and Nutella.


End file.
